


The Songs In His Head

by TheForgottenDreams



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Enjolras Is Bad At Feelings, F/F, F/M, Getting Together, Les Amis de l'ABC - Freeform, M/M, Multi, Oblivious Enjolras, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Songfic, Soul Mate AU, like 18 songfics in one, they're all bad at feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 21:04:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4640157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheForgottenDreams/pseuds/TheForgottenDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a well-known fact that the reason that you got songs in your head and you were seized with the urge to sing them was because somewhere your soulmate was singing or listening to that exact song. </p><p>Enjolras sincerely hoped this wasn’t true. His problem was that he didn’t want to be soul mates worth someone who sang ridiculous songs at the most inappropriate times. For example: now as the familiar chords of One Direction started up in his head. He groaned and knew it would be a long meeting.</p><p>(A Soul Mate AU, where it takes Enjolras 18 songs to realised who his soulmate is)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Songs In His Head

It was a well-known fact that the reason that you got songs in your head and you were seized with the urge to sing them was because somewhere your soulmate was singing or listening to that exact song.

Enjolras sincerely hoped this wasn’t true. He wasn’t opposed to soulmates as a whole, he actually thought it was nice to know there was someone destined to be with you out there. No, his problem was that he didn’t want to be soul mates with someone who sang ridiculous songs at the most inappropriate times. For example: now

You're insecure, don't know what for, you're turning heads when you walk through the door.

He groaned as the familiar chords started up in his head, regardless of the fact he was in the middle of one of his biweekly social justice meetings with his group ‘Les Amis D’ABC’ – or ‘Les Amis’ for short. This particular song was a personal favourite of his soulmate’s and he frequently sang it. Some of the members looked at him funny because he had stopped mid-speech, these were the ones not used to the effects of his soulmate’s sporadic singing.

Everyone else in the room can see it, everyone else but you.

“The Soulmate?” Grantaire, their resident cynic, boxer, dancer, fencer, drinker, artist and general pain in Enjolras’ ass asked. He was drawing at his usual table at the back, next to Éponine, they were sharing headphones and smiling like they had a secret as usual, though it was not surprising seeing as they had been best friends since they were children.

“Yes.” Enjolras sighed, rubbing his temples and fighting the fluttery feeling in his stomach he got when he locked eyes with Grantaire. Or interacted with Grantaire. Or thought about Grantaire.

“What is it this time?” Combeferre asked wearily from Enjolras side. He was used to Enjolras’ soulmate dilemma being one of Enjolras’ flatmates and best friends.

The way you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed.

“Ooh! This is my favourite game!” His second flatmate and best friend, Courfeyrac, exclaimed. Joy and excitement breaking out onto his face as he bounced in his seat like a small child. Courfeyrac was a huge fan of Enjolras’ soulmate, namely because he loved anything that annoyed Enjolras and his soulmate’s singing certainly did. Well, it wasn’t his singing, his soulmate’s voice was amazingly breath-taking, no, it was his soulmate’s choice of songs that annoyed him

Musichetta spoke from her seat in the front corner, “Shall I get the hat?”

“No.” Enjolras replied stonily. “We’re going back to the meeting.”

“I say we take a vote.” Grantaire piped up, then added in a way Enjolras knew he was being simultaneously quoted and mocked, “After all this isn’t a dictatorship, this is a democracy.”

“Grantaire….” Enjolras glared towards him and sighed.

“We’re voting, O’Fearless One.” Grantaire grinned and so they did.

The outcome was not in Enjolras’ favour.

You don’t know you’re beautiful.

“You’ve been making a game out of your soulmate and you didn’t tell me?” Cosette asked from where Jehan was braiding her hair. As Enjolras’ adoptive, baby sister she had been one of the first to know of Enjolras’ annoying soulmate, but she had only recently been attending meetings because she had only recently met her soulmates, the sweet, harmless Marius and the cold, cutting Éponine. But because she was new to the group, she wasn’t aware of Courfeyrac’s game of ‘bet which song Enjolras’ soulmate is singing or listening to this time and waste as much meeting time as we can’.

“We put money on which song it is this time based on Enjolras’ reaction.” Combeferre explained.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could have been making money this whole time! Enjy, you’re the worst big brother ever!” Cosette rolled her eyes and faked a sulk.

“Because you’d hustle my friends out of all their money.” Enjolras replied blandly. He noticed as Éponine got a slightly impressed look in her eyes, but it passed as quickly as it came and she steeled her gaze into her normal emotionless indifference.

“One time.” Cosette rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him. Surprisingly he returned it.

“Adorable, but back to the game.” Éponine stated blandly, making it quite plain she didn’t think it was adorable. Cosette moved her gaze to the brunette and Enjolras didn’t miss the longing that entered her blue eyes, he also didn’t miss the way Marius squeezed Cosette’s hand in comfort.

Enjolras knew why Éponine didn’t like Cosette, especially seeing as the brunette had been in love with Marius ever since they had been young and she knew he was her soulmate, only she didn’t tell him. No one knew the exact reason Éponine kept it to herself, but Enjolras figured it was because she had been hurt before, by people who were supposed to love her and thus was more reserved about getting hurt again. She had just built up the courage to tell Marius at Combeferre’s birthday party a few weeks ago, when along came Cosette. Marius recognised Cosette as his soulmate immediately and the two fell in love quickly, so Éponine was discouraged. In fact, it wasn’t until she had gotten very drunk at that same party and gone up to do karaoke, that Marius and Cosette realised she was their soulmate.

“Cosette, it’s so fun, we even have a special hat!” Joly exclaimed as Musichetta got up and picked The Hat of Betting off the shelf – despite Enjolras’ previous discouragement. The Hat Of Betting is what they collected the bet money in, they did it so often they had a special gold plastic cowboy hat covered in Grantaire’s doodles (one for each of them) dedicated for the occasion, courtesy of Jehan.

The barista handed the hat to Joly, her med-student boyfriend and soulmate, then sat in her space between him and her other law-student boyfriend and soulmate, Bossuet. All three had thought they were going crazy when they heard the most beautiful duets in their heads, but they weren’t. They were very much in love.

“Jehan gave us the hat and then Grantaire drew a symbol for all of us who have betted.” Bossuet said with a smile.

So come on, you got it wrong.

“Bossuet got an eagle, I got a dinosaur, Musichetta a sugar skull,” Joly started listing all of their symbols, his voice rising and falling with excitement. “Éponine’s Axe Bass,” she raised her coke and rum into the air proudly, “Jehan a rose,” He smiled and continued Cosette’s plait, “Combeferre a moth, Courfeyrac the Comedy and Tragedy masks, Bahorel a wrestler mask,”

“Hell yeah!” Bahorel cheered making a few of them laugh.

“Feuilly a fan, Marius a tiara-“ at his Marius made a noise and the other’s laughed. Joly continued, “Enjolras a sun and then Grantaire drew a paint brush for himself. Even Gavroche, ‘Ponine’s little brother is here, his is the skateboard.” Joly beamed, handing the hat to Cosette across the tables, who took it and studied the intricate drawings with an awed smile.

“I still can’t believe you let him do that.” Éponine frowned, “He told his teacher and she arranged a teacher/guardian meeting. The woman is like Miss Honey, it was hard to lie to her. I actually felt bad afterwards.”

“Did you get that looked at?” Grantaire asked with a big grin on his face and laughter in his eyes. She rolled her eyes and hit him in the arm, hard, judging by Grantaire’s wince.

“But what we actually do is pass The Hat Of Betting around and put our money in it as we say our bets.” Combeferre explained, “My money is on, ‘Does Your Mother Know’. The Mamma Mia movie version.” The hat was passed to him and he put his money in, then handed the hat to Courfeyrac.

“Combeferre.” Enjolras frowned at him, at the betrayal. Combeferre simply smirked in return.

“That is a good one, but I’m down for ‘Fabulous’ from ‘High School Musical’.” Courfeyrac passed the hat on and then proceeded to hum the tune of the song.

This carried on and Enjolras sighed with each incorrect bet. Bossuet, Joly and Musichetta voting on different pop songs, Feuilly on ‘The Gummibear Song’, Bahorel on ‘Let It Go’, Éponine bet on Justin Bieber, Jehan passed, too busy weaving flowers into Cosette’s hair, Marius went for Disney and Cosette wanted to think about it.

And of course, Grantaire wasted more of their meeting time by making his prediction loud and lengthy. “These are all good guesses but judging from our fearless leader’s-“

“We don’t have a leader, Grantaire.” Enjolras interrupted, his eyes locking with the cynics before he dragged them away, “We all have an equal say and all have equal authority.”

And turn away when I look into your eyes.

“-expression, the song is chart music. Probably Carly Rae Jepson or One Direction.” Grantaire carried on.

“I’ll go for one, you the other?” Cosette turned to ask Grantaire.

The two of them were surprisingly fast friends (which scared Enjolras when he thought about what his sister and the cynic could be plotting against him) though no one particularly knew why – maybe it was because Cosette, despite her adorable and harmless façade, was actually ‘pretty badass’ and had asked Grantaire to teach her how to kick-box (he did that too) or because he respected her ‘cute cinnamon roll appearance’ but saw the ‘evil YA villain’ inside. Plus, she always made him cupcakes with skulls on.

“Sounds good, my money’s on ‘Call Me Maybe’ and I’ll draw you onto the hat.” Grantaire smirked.

“One Direction, ‘One Thing’.” Cosette entered, giving her bet money to the hat, “And, I’d like a skull with a knife in, please.”

“That I can do.” Grantaire smiled, Marius next to her squirmed in his seat, Cosette giggled and kissed his cheek, Éponine looked away.

But when you smile at the ground it ain’t hard to tell,

The hat was passed back to Courfeyrac with everyone’s money.

“Go on, O’Fearless One, tell us who was correct.” Courfeyrac grinned.

“One Direction, ‘What Makes You Beautiful’.” Enjolras sighed.

Right now I’m looking at you and I can’t believe,

“Take that, motherchuckers!” Cosette shouted with glee as she collected her winnings before handing the hat back to Grantaire and asking him to put extra blood on her skull and knife. Enjolras rolled his eyes, she may look like the Disney princess but she was every bit the bad guy.

“It’s making my brain bleed.” Enjolras moaned, “I wish they’d turn it off.”

You’ll understand why I want you so desperately,

“Is it on repeat?” Courfeyrac asked, though his eyes were full of hope and joy and he was grinning like he was five and it was Christmas morning so, he was clearly pleased with this.

“It appears so.”

“If you find them, you have to marry them.” Courfeyrac grinned, “If you don’t I will.”

That’s what makes you beautiful.

And with that the music shut off suddenly and Enjolras sighed in relief.

 

II.

Enjolras woke up.

It’s Friday, Friday, gotta get down on Friday, everybody’s looking forward to the weekend, weekend.

Enjolras promptly went back to sleep.

 

III.

“Cheer up, Enjy!” Courfeyrac yelled over the pounding bass of the club music. “We’re out to have a good time!”

Enjolras simply glared at his exuberant roommate, but took the beer being thrust in his hand. He had been dragged out by Courfeyrac and the rest of the group for their pre-revision/cramming month night out, which consisted on drinking and dancing and Enjolras was good at neither of those things and so usually avoided these outings. However, tonight, he’d had no choice. The group had taken it to vote and the result was again, not working out for the blonde – he was seriously doubting the good in democracies.

Hence why he was sat at a sticky table in some club with a beer in his hand that he didn’t even want and staring at Courfeyrac’s puppy dog eyes.

“No.” Enjolras sighed.

“You’re bringing the mood down! Just, in the worlds of my Queen, ‘let it go’!”

“Elsa is a fictional Queen.” Enjolras informed him, “Her childhood was literally about supressing her powers, a lesson I’m sure she’ll apply when ruling her kingdom and then suddenly your beloved queen has become a ruthless dictator. She’s basically everything we’re against Courf-”

“It’s Disney Enjolras, that’s not going to happen. Anyway, you’ve been thinking about that way too much.” Courfeyrac sighed, “Please, please, just drink that beer then get up and dance for me, please. You never know, you might enjoy it.”

“I won’t.”

“You won’t know till you try.”

And, unknowingly they had entered a staring competition. Enjolras lost and sighed, then drank his beer much quicker than he would have liked, before he knew it he was being dragged to the dancefloor by Courfeyrac.

His dancing was interesting to say the least, but he did find himself letting go and having fun, not that he would admit to Courfeyrac. He danced with his best friends then Jehan and sometime Combeferre brought him a drink which he gulped down and got another one or three of. Cosette too wanted to dance and he found himself whirling her around before she was transferred to Grantaire, even Éponine danced the robot with him before going off to dance seductively with some stranger, right in sight of Marius and Cosette.

Then Grantaire felt compelled to teach Enjolras some dance moves from this century and they danced for a long time. Long enough that Enjolras felt breathless and too warm, every point where he was touching Grantaire felt like fire, and there were lots because the crowd had pushed them together. Still, songs blurred by and they danced.

“Apollo?” Grantaire asked, concern in his blue eyes, well eyes Enjolras knew were blue, but looked black in the club’s lighting.

“M’fine.” Enjolras replied and kept dancing.

“You’re not.” Grantaire said, he put his hands firmly on Enjolras’ arms and the blonde stopped dancing. Grantaire lead him out of the mosh pit the dancefloor had turned into and took him to a table the other side of the club.

“It’s warm.” Enjolras mumbled.

Grantaire looked at him a moment, “I’ll get you some water, stay here.”

“M’kay.” Enjolras replied.

And then Grantaire was disappearing as a familiar guitar line started, both in his head and in the club.

It feels like the perfect night to dress up like Hipsters and make fun of our exes.

At the exact same time as Taylor Swift began to sing, so did Enjolras’ soulmate. The deep, and rich voice of his soulmate’s voice complemented the pop sensation’s higher pitched melodies and he found himself leaning away from the speaker’s to listen to his soulmate. He suddenly felt too hot and claustrophobic in the club with the smell of sweat and alcohol, the blurring rainbow of lights was giving him a headache and he longed for water or oxygen. He must have looked strange because Combeferre appeared by his side quickly.

We’re happy free confused and lonely at the same time.

“Enjolras?” his bespectacled roommate asked, “What’s wrong?”

“My s-soulmate.” Enjolras blinked in disbelief.

“Let’s go outside, so I can hear you.” Combeferre shouted over the blaring music of Taylor Swift.

“Grantaire.” Enjolras managed weakly.

“What?”

I don’t know about you.

“He told me to stay here.” Enjolras yelled louder.

“Who?”

But I’m feeling twenty-two

“Grantaire.” Enjolras shouted.

“I’ll get Courf’ to find him and tell him where we are.” Combeferre answered.

He hurried over to the edge of the dancefloor where their flamboyant roommate was dancing with their resident poet.

Jehan immediately stopped, dragged Courfeyrac slightly towards Combeferre and leaned in to listen to him. Enjolras saw Combeferre shouting to them, saw the concern on both Courfeyrac’s and Jehan’s face, but saw them nod.

Courfeyrac looked up and over at Enjolras, his hazel eyes full of concern, but Enjolras shot him a smile and he looked back at Combeferre. He began nodding intently. Jehan shouted something back at Combeferre and then the pair were disappearing into the crowds to find Grantaire and Combeferre was back at Enjolras’ side.

It seems like one of those nights, this place is too crowded, too many cool kids.

Once outside, Enjolras felt like he could breathe again. Though he still wanted a drink and could hear the incessant music, the air helped him cool down and the dim lighting helped soothe his eyes and head. Combeferre guided him over to where Bahorel was stood smoking and Feuilly appeared to be keeping him company.

“What’s up?” Bahorel asked, frowning slightly at Enjolras and Combeferre. He was stood out in the cooling air in only his muscle vest and jeans, his muscles were emphasized by the dim light the streetlight cast, next to him Feuilly looked even more delicate, his willowy form looking even smaller next to Bahorel’s bulk. The pair didn’t look like they belonged together, but the songs in their heads sad otherwise.

“We got too warm, needed some air.” Combeferre supplied.

We ditch the whole scene and end up dreaming instead of sleeping.

“Is that just it? Enjolras looks shaken.” Feuilly asked, his brown eyes full of concern as he looked at Enjolras and was handed the cigarette from Bahorel, it seemed they were sharing.

Enjolras forced a smile onto his face and nodded. For some reason he didn’t want to tell them about how close his soulmate was. Obviously his soulmate didn’t particularly want to meet him either as they would have known he was there, they would have heard him singing that same song. It just didn’t feel like the right time, besides Enjolras didn’t want ‘fate’ to decide who he loved, or more bluntly, he wanted to fall in love with someone of his own will and not because ‘fate’ deemed it. Call him stubborn, but that was his one wish – besides freeing France, of course.

“It was boiling,” He lied, “I’m just too hot.”

We're happy, free confused and lonely in the best way,

“Hot damn.” A deep voice spoke behind Enjolras, the voice was warm and close enough to his ear that he felt the person’s breath on his neck, it made him simultaneously jump and shiver. He vaguely registered that Feuilly groaned and Bahorel laughed, as the speaker moved to stand next to Enjolras, he was unsurprised it was Grantaire.

“Have you called the police and a fireman?” Combeferre asked half-heartedly and with a small smile, though his eyes behind his glasses looked tired and weary and concerned.

Now both Grantaire and Bahorel were laughing, Enjolras was suddenly distracted by Grantaire’s laugh, a thing that wouldn’t happen if he hadn’t been slightly drunk, it was genuinely happy and contagious. Clearly he’d had too much to drink.

“I might just head home.” Enjolras spoke quietly. “I feel odd.”

“The alcohol.” Feuilly nodded.

You don’t know about me, but I bet you want to.

“We’ve all been there.” Bahorel agreed, taking a drag from his cigarette.

“Do you want me to come home with you?” Combeferre asked, though his eyes flitted back to the club.

“No, no, no.” Enjolras shook his head, “Go dance with our friends. Plus there’s Courf’ to keep an eye on.”

It feels like one of those nights.

“You sure?”

“I’ll walk Enjolras home.” Grantaire offered as Enjolras was about to reassure Combeferre that he would be fine.

“Are you sure ‘Taire?” Combeferre asked him.

We ditch the whole scene.

“Yeah. I think I’ve had enough dancing and drinking for one night, if not I can come back. You guys don’t live faraway.” Grantaire answered.

“Alright then.” Combeferre nodded.

“We’re going to stay out here a little longer, then we’ll come back in.” Feuilly told them.

“Okay, see you later.” Combeferre smiled and turned away and disappeared back into the club.

We won’t be sleeping.

“Bye.” Enjolras told them, “Tell the others….”

"They will.” Grantaire reassured him. “C’mon, Apollo. You look exhausted.”

“Okay.” Enjolras nodded, slowly they started walking.

It feels likes one of those nights.

They were close enough that their arms kept bumping together as they walked in communal silence. Enjolras kept stealing glances at Grantaire from the corner of his eye, Grantaire was quite beautiful, not in society’s standards, but to Enjolras he was. With his dark, almost black, blue eyes, his crooked nose, thick curly black hair, tanned skin, muscular physique, Enjolras caught himself then and forced himself to shake the thought, he blamed it on the alcohol he had consumed that night.

“Enjolras...” Grantaire started to speak, but trailed off, unsure of what to say.

“Yeah?” Enjolras asked, turning to look at Grantaire.

The artist met his eyes and took a deep breath, like he was going to say something important. Enjolras, even in his drunken stupor, saw the nervousness in his eyes, saw the sadness and pain. He wanted to touch Grantaire’s face, reassure him, kiss away his fears and doubts and negative thoughts and whoa… where did that come from?

As if sensing his dilemma, Grantaire shook his head, the emotions draining from his eyes as he said, “Forget it.”

“’Kay.” Enjolras hummed like a child, Grantaire smiled slightly.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Grantaire quirked and eyebrow as their arms bumped together once again.

“Yeah, m’fine.” Enjolras answered, “Maybe a bit drunk.”

You look like bad news.

“Maybe.” The artist laughed.

“I heard my soulmate.” The blond told him.

“Oh yeah?” Grantaire’s other eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, he was there. At the club.” Enjolras replied, “He sang with Taylor Swift.”

Grantaire besides him tensed, but Enjolras didn’t notice in his drunken stupor, “Did he?”

“Yeah, he’s really good.” Enjolras nodded.

I gotta have you.

“D-did you…” Grantaire stuttered, “D-did you meet him?”

“No.”

“Do you want to?”

“Eventually.”

“Not right now?”

“Now, I have Les Amis, but that’s not why. I want to fall in love without fate telling me, I want to find him without knowing.” Enjolras confessed, he’d never told anyone this before, not even Cosette or Combeferre or Courfeyrac – the three C’s, his mind supplied.

“I know what you mean.” Grantaire nodded, “I don’t want fate to tell me what to do.”

“Exactly.” Enjolras nodded.

They continued walking in silence, but when their arms bumped together again, neither of them realised, but they held each other’s hand.

I gotta have you.

IV.

This time Enjolras woke to a pounding headache and the song Katy Perry’s ‘Last Friday Night (T.G.I.F)’.

To remedy this he took painkillers and blasted whatever rock CD Bahorel had left at their apartment.

 

V.

Enjolras really didn’t want to talk about Number Five

At all.

 

VI.

Sometimes I walk a little faster in the school hallway just to get next to you.

The next song started as Enjolras left the lecture theatre a few days after the night out, throwing his messenger bag onto his shoulder and began heading to the Musain as typical on a Monday. All day his soulmate had been singing songs from High School Musical and Camp Rock – the soundtracks of them ingrained in his brain thanks to Cosette’s repeated playing of them when she was younger and Courfeyrac’s spontaneous musical numbers.

Some days I spend a little extra time in the morning just to impress you.

This song he recognised to be Hannah Montana. He groaned without thinking and ignored the strange looks the few people in the hallway gave him. He reached into the pockets of his bright red trousers and pulled out his equally red phone and headphones, which he put on, though he didn’t turn his music on, he was entranced by the voice of his soulmate – a thing that occurred quite frequently and irked him as much as his soulmate’s song choice.

Guess you’re don’t notice, guess you don’t need this. Sad you’re not seeing what you’re missing.

He took his hands into his pockets and sped up.

On the outside shying away.

Enjolras pushed open the door at the end of the corridor and went out into the warm afternoon.

On the inside dying to say.

He stretched in the sunlight as he walked, in a way Éponine said reminded her of a cat, close to the wall of the building and so he didn’t see as he rounded the corner the dishevelled art student running the other way.

I’m unusual, not so typical, way too smart to be waiting around. Tai Chi practices, snowboard champion, I can fix the flat on your car, I might even be a rock star. I might even be a rock-

They collided, Enjolras began to fall backwards and Grantaire grabbed him, his ink stained hands grabbing Enjolras’ waist and back of his head, intending to pull him upright. Enjolras’ arms immediately latched onto Grantaire, something neither of them realised. However, Grantaire’s own momentum toppled them over more and he fell onto Enjolras who was flattened on the pavement, Grantaire’s arm cushioning his head and Enjolras’ pulling Grantaire down, more on top of him. They laid still for a few beats and blinked at each other, their faces heating as they shared the close proximity, especially as Grantaire’s arms seemed to cave them in more.

“’Taire?” Enjolras asked and then felt stupid for seeing as it was obviously Grantaire, the smell of paint, smoke and soap powder belonged to no one other than the artist and no one else had the same shadowy blue eyes Grantaire did and why was Enjolras noting this?

“Oh gods, I’m sorry.” Grantaire answered, he pushed himself up and scrambled off the blonde to gather his things that had scattered around them. “I Apollo-gise, O’Fearless One.”  
“Don’t call me that and that pun wasn’t funny” the blonde wheezed, though it came out more garbled as he was trying to get his breath back, he had been winded from the fall, “I’m human, I get scared and feel things too.”

“Are you okay?” The brunet asked, ignoring his protests like every other time before.

“Just winded.” Enjolras answered, still laid on the pavement and wincing as he spoke. His hands moved to his ribs. “My ribs hurt too.”

“Do you need medical attention?”

“No.” Enjolras answered, “I just want to lie here for a little longer. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I had a decent pillow to cushion my fall.”

“Hmmm….” Enjolras hummed, he closed his eyes slightly and began to control his breathing. “Wait, he’s stopped.”

“Who?” Grantaire asked hesitantly.

“Soulmate. He was singing Hannah Montana.” Enjolras answered, Grantaire burst out laughing, his laughter so raw and pure it should probably be called guffawing. Enjolras found himself smiling along and slowly he sat up.

“Wow. He’s decided to torture you with Hannah Montana now. Wow.” Grantaire grinned as he calmed down, “You sure he’s supposed to love you and not hate you?”

“That I am not sure about.” Enjolras answered with a laugh and Grantaire laughed too.

They sat on the pavement laughing until their sides and jaws began to ache and any little thing could set off another laugh attack. Eventually they heard familiar footsteps behind them.

“What is this?” Someone gasped in a very theatrical way.

“Courfeyrac.” Enjolras groaned and rolled his eyes to Grantaire who smiled back. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for The Fearless One and our Resident Cynic when they made it clear they weren’t going to be on time to the meeting.” Courfeyrac answered. Enjolras turned slightly to look at them and saw Courfeyrac, Jehan, Bahorel and Feuilly stood looking down at them.

“We hoped something had happened.” Bahorel boomed.

“Not in a bad way, obviously.” Feuilly finished.

“So, we all split up and went to look for you,” Jehan took over, “We thought to check Enjolras’ last lecture and then heard laughter and thought it couldn’t be the two of you, but we were wrong apparently.”

“We just bumped into each other.” Grantaire said.

“Literally.” Enjolras added. They glanced at each other and smiled again.

“No one is dying right? Joly will freak out again.” Feuilly asked.

“Nope, no one is hurt.” Grantaire answered, then he picked up his phone from the pavement and tried to turn it on, it wouldn’t so he held his phone and headphones to show the others as he stood up, “Well, my phone and pride are, but that’s to be expected.”

“We should go back and round up the others.” Enjolras decided.

“Can you get up now?”

“Help me?” Enjolras raised his eyebrows slightly.

Grantaire complied, reaching a hand down, which Enjolras took, and pulled him up.

Courfeyrac ran away screaming with joy.

Needless to say, that the meeting – when it finally happened - was not productive.

 

VII.

Seven just wasn’t worth mentioning.

 

VIII.

Eight just made Enjolras hit his head repeatedly against the wall.

Courfeyrac won the betting game.

 

IX.

The ninth annoying song happened when Enjolras was dragged on a shopping trip with Cosette. She had called him and asked him to assist her in the endeavour. He’d stupidly accepted.

“Why am I here?” he asked as they went into the fifteenth shop that morning.

“You have the biggest car to fit all the bags in.” She replied as she weaved between rails of clothes. Her pink dress seemed to float as she walked and her golden hair gleamed in the bright shop lighting, she paused looking at some dresses before shaking her head and carrying on.

“Cosette.” Enjolras frowned.

“Plus, I wanted some sibling time and to talk to you.” She carried on. “We haven’t had a proper talk since…” she paused, thinking, “See, I can’t even remember when.”

“And why is Courfeyrac here?” Enjolras asked.

“Because I am very fashionable and your baby sister desires my advice.” Courfeyrac called from behind him.

“And we’re shopping because?” Enjolras sighed, as they stopped again.

“Because I need a dress for Jehan’s birthday party.” She answered, purposely not meeting his eyes.

“Why? You have at least ten suitable dresses in your wardrobe.” He pointed out.

“You don’t understand.” Courfeyrac sighed.

“No. I mean I do have the clothes but I don’t.” She turned to him, her cheeks had gone slightly pink.

Enjolras frowned, “I don’t understand.”

“It has to be the perfect dress. Marius and I… we’re planning to impress Éponine, she’s our soulmate, she’s our missing piece and it hurts to see her all alone and sad when she belongs with us.” Cosette confessed, “So we set out a plan, we’re going to make her realised she doesn’t have to be alone, that we want her, that we need her.”

“How do you know it’s her?”

“At the Christmas party when they got up and sang a duet on the karaoke machine, I heard them both in my head, they both made my heart beat faster and gave me butterflies and I just knew they were my missing pieces.” Cosette explained.

“So this dress will make her fall for you?”

“Obviously not, but it’s the start.” She answered with an eye roll, like his question was unfathomably stupid. “Anyway, how’s your soulmate?”

He knew it was tempting fate and knew his soulmate would correct him as soon as he said: “Quiet.”

My life is brilliant, my love is pure.

“That is not an attractive face.” Cosette commented, laughter on her face.

“I didn’t think Enjolras could be ugly but I guess I was wrong.” Courfeyrac stared wide-eyed.

“He started singing.” Enjolras answered.

“Well, it mustn’t be good.”

I saw an angle of that I’m sure.

“James Blunt, ‘You’re Beautiful’.” Enjolras groaned.

He smiled at me on the subway, he was with another man.

“Awh! That’s so cute!” Cosette beamed then she turned and mumbled something.

“I officially love him.” Courfeyrac declared, “Never mind my own soulmate, I want Enjolras’.”

But I won’t lose no sleep on that because I have a plan.

“I need to hit him when I meet him.” Enjolras grumbled, Cosette and Courfeyrac shared a glance and laughed, “What? What am I missing?”

“Nothing.” Courfeyrac said at the same time Cosette replied: “Everything.”

“Urgh.” Enjolras groaned.

You’re beautiful, you’re beautiful,, it’s true, I saw your face in a crowded place and I don’t know what to do, because I’ll never be with you.

“I think it’s cute he thinks you’re beautiful.” Courfeyrac replied, “My soulmate doesn’t sing these types of songs.”

“But to think I was beautiful he’d have to at least have seen and recognised me.” Enjolras thought out loud and then he said, “Shit.”

“Language.” Cosette scolded, she out her arm on him and pulled him forward, away from a group of girls who were glaring at him.

Yes, she caught my eye as I walked on by.

“He knows who I am.” Enjolras realised.

“Finally, we’re getting somewhere.”

He could see from my face that I was fucking high.

“You know who it is.” Enjolras accused her and judging by the look his sister sent Courfeyrac he did too, “You too Courf’.”

“We do.” They agreed, their expressions were cautious and maybe worried.

“Shit.” Enjolras responded.

And I don’t think that I’ll see her again, but we shared a moment that will last ‘til the end.

Fear gripped his heart then as it began to beat faster. If his soulmate knew who he was, were they wanting to be more than whatever his current relationship with them was? Were they ready for that? Was Enjolras ready for that?

You’re beautiful, you’re beautiful, you’re beautiful, it’s true.

No, he knew he wasn’t. For so long his life had been devoted to his academics and his revolutionary group and friends, he knew he couldn’t factor someone else in right now, not with finals so close. And, of course there was the worry of what they were like, would they understand, would they demand his attention, would they be a bad person?

I saw your face in a crowded place and I don’t know what to do.

He felt a hand on his arm and felt himself being pulled away from the centre of the shop. He vaguely registered the cooler air as he was removed from the clothes shop, he saw Cosette following, her expression grim and assumed it was Courfeyrac moving him.

‘Cause I’ll never be with you,

“Just breathe, Enjy, breathe.” Courfeyrac muttered.

Enjolras tried to slow his erratic breathing, but that seemed to make him panic more.

“We’re sitting down, Enj.” Courfeyrac told him and Enjolras felt himself lowered until he was sat on a bench.  
You’re beautiful, you’re beautiful, you’re beautiful, it’s true

And, then both Cosette and Courfeyrac were kneeling in front of him, concern on their faces.

“Follow my breathing, bro.” Cosette instructed and Enjolras did that.

There must be an angel with a smile on her face,

He copied her breathing until his was back to normal, until he could think clear and his heart stopped beating unevenly. He calmed down and took in his surroundings. Courfeyrac had led him to a bench, near the back of the centre, away from the noise and crowds. Not many people, went this far back seeing as the shops were mostly tattoo parlours and gothic shops with fortune readings and tarot cards.

“I’m okay.” He told them.

“You scared me.” Cosette told him, as she dived forward for a hug.

When she thought up that I should be with you.

“I’m not ready for my soulmate.”

“He’s knows.” Courfeyrac told him, “He’s waiting for you to be ready, until the moment is right.”

“And in the process, he figured he’d mess with you by listening to the most annoying and obnoxious songs.” Cosette smiled cheerfully.

But it’s time to face the truth.

“And, I’m guessing you gave him that idea.” Enjolras raised an eyebrow.

“You bet cha’!” Cosette beamed

“I hate you.” Enjolras sighed, moving his gaze from her eyes to just over her shoulder. His mouth fell open slightly, “But I did just find the perfect outfit to impress ‘Ponine.”

“Where?” Courfeyrac asked and then he and Cosette turned to follow Enjolras’ gaze.

Cosette’s eyes filled with happiness and Courfeyrac’s jaw dropped into a smile as Cosette breathed, “It’s perfect.”

I will never be with you.

 

X.

“’PPPPPONNNNINNNNNEEEEE!” Grantaire’s voice trickled over the speaker of his phone loudly.

“’Taire?” Enjolras asked his voice still groggy from sleep, sleep which he had been rudely woken from by his phone, by Grantaire. “What is it?”

“You don’t sound like ‘Ponine.” Grantaire remarked, sounding like a child.

“I’m not, it’s Enjolras.”

“My Apollo? Prove it!” he shouted, Enjolras could conclude that Grantaire was, in fact, very drunk. “What is his favourite colour?”

“Red.”

“True, he wears it a lot.” Grantaire agreed, “What is the name of his social justice club?”

“Les Amis D’ABC.” Enjolras answered.

“Correct.” Grantaire said, “Final question, his hair has the same volume as what?”

Enjolras remembered this joke, Courfeyrac had made a joke that the Jupiter had the exact same volume as his hair when he has woken up with extreme bedhead at the last Les Amis sleepover. That had been followed by the rest of them begging him to tell them how he got the messy curls to look ‘immaculate’ all the time, he’d given a pretty lengthy lecture about his hair routine in the morning.

“Jupiter.”

“Ding, ding ding! We have a winner, you are the real Enjy.”

“Don’t call me that, Grantaire.” Enjolras rolled his eyes, he glanced over at his clock, “What do you want? It’s two in the morning.”

“I wanted a lift home from ‘Ponine, this isn’t the nicest neighbourhood.”

“She’ll be sleeping and there’s Gav.” Enjolras commented, he paused for a moment, trying to psyche himself up to getting out of his nice, comfortable, warm bed. “I’m up now so it makes sense if I just come and get you.”

“Ooh, you’ll come? Finally found your sex drive Enjy?” Grantaire laughed.

“No! What? That’s not what I meant!” Enjolras protested, he could feel his cheeks and ears going red as he scrambled to find jeans and a t-shirt. “I was sleeping Grantaire!”

“I know.”

“Grantaire, where are you exactly so I don’t have to drive around a dodgy neighbourhood all night.”

Grantaire reeled off the name and address of the club and before Enjolras knew it, the drunken artist was clambering into his car, smelling like a variety of fruity alcoholic drinks.

“Enjy, my hero!” He smiled over at Enjolras as the blonde began to drive away from the club and towards Grantaire’s apartment.

“I wasn’t going to leave you there.” Enjolras told him.

“Too nice.” Grantaire sighed.

“Go to sleep, ‘Taire, I’ll wake you when we get home.” Enjolras told him.

“’Kay.” Grantaire nodded, he took his phone from his pocket and put a headphone in his ear and he told Enjolras, “So I can sleep better.”

The blonde nodded, knowing it was a good fifteen minute drive to Grantaire’s apartment. Enjolras himself put on the radio, quietly so not to disturb the brunet. After five minutes of the news program, the music in his head started up.

I don’t think this passenger seat, has ever looked this good to me.

Enjolras glanced at Grantaire at that point, though the artist was fast asleep and his headphone halfway out of his ear. Grantaire’s eyes were closed and thus he looked younger as everyone does in sleep, there was a softness and an innocence about him that he didn’t have in consciousness, like his edges had been smoothed out. He was quite attractive, Enjolras decided. He dragged his eyes from the artist and returned them to the road.

He’ll never fall in love he swears as he runs his fingers through his hair.

Enjolras didn’t recognise the song, and promised to look it up later. He turned off the road he had been driving on and went onto a smaller side street. Only, he forgot the speedbumps and as soon as he drove over one, Grantaire jerked awake.

I don’t think it ever crossed his mind, he tells a joke and I fake a smile, but I know all his favourite songs.

“What?” Grantaire mumbled.

“Sorry, I forgot the speedbumps.” Enjolras apologised.

“No need to apologise, Apollo.” Grantaire said with a smile, “You saved me after all.”

I could tell you his favourite colour’s green, he loves to argue born on the seventeenth.

“I just answered your call when you got the wrong number and offered to drive you home, I’d do it for anyone of my friends.” Enjolras answered.

“Friends…” Grantaire said the word with a sort of malic in his voice.

“You’re one of my friends Grantaire, well, I’ve always considered you a friend.” Enjolras glanced at him.

“We argue all the time.” Grantaire said.

“But you help make my arguments better.”

“I literally annoy you all the time.”

“So do Courfeyrac and Marius.”

He looks around the room, innocently overlooks the truth.

“We have nothing in common.” Grantaire said.

“We have more in common than you think.” Enjolras countered.

“Like what?”

Doesn’t he know that I’ve had him memorised for so long?

“Like our friends.” Enjolras answered.

“The loveable rogues.” Grantaire agreed.

“The Musain.”

“The best coffee.”

“We’re both stubborn, protective of our loved ones, we love arguing and are both amazing at making everyone else feel uncomfortable because of our arguments.”

Never let nobody see him cry, I don’t let nobody see me wishing he was mine.

“I do love to argue with you.” Grantaire replied.

“Hatred of shopping for clothes.” Enjolras thought back to his shopping trip with Cosette and Courfeyrac with a shudder.

“That’s true.” Grantaire nodded, “Wait, I thought of one, not wanting to let fate tell us what to do.”

Enjolras smiled then, so Grantaire did listen to his speeches, “Exactly.”

And I could tell you, his favourite colour’s green, he loves to argue, born on the seventeenth.

Enjolras was briefly struck with the idea that this song applied well to Grantaire, his favourite colour is green, he does love to argue, born on the seventeenth of November, his sister, Annalise, was beautiful, Enjolras knew a lot of his favourite songs. He shook his head, he couldn’t think of Grantaire that way.

My god if I could only say, I’m holding every breath for you.

“Gods, how much did I drink?” Grantaire frowned.

“I don’t know.” Enjolras shrugged, glancing cautiously at Grantaire.

“My head feels fuzzy.”

“Are you going to be sick?”

“Nah.”

He’d never tell you but he can play guitar, I think he see through everything but my heart

“You need to drink some water and go to sleep.” Enjolras told him.

First thought when I wake up is ‘my god he’s beautiful’.

“I know how to deal with being drunk and having hangovers,” Grantaire snapped, “but, thank you.”

Yes, I could tell you his favourite colour’s green, he loves to argue, oh and it kills me.

“For what?” Enjolras raised an eyebrow.

“For picking up the phone, I know I can be a dick to you but I’m not, I do it because, because I care.” Grantaire was staring at him, his eyes full of hope that Enjolras understand.

“I care about you too.” Enjolras replied, with the sense he didn’t quite understand.

And if you asked me if I love him

Grantaire shook his head and shifted in his seat, “No, you don’t. Not the same way.”

“I don’t understand.” Enjolras frowned.

“IT doesn’t matter, Apollo, just the ramblings of a drunken cynic.”  
“You’re not, Grantaire.” Enjolras turned to look at him, “You’re so much more than that, I just wish you could see it.”

“Enjy…”

“We’re here.” Enjolras announced as he pulled up. “You want me to walk up with you?”

“No, I’m fine, you’ve done enough, you always do.” Grantaire’s eyes got a strange wistful look as he stared at Enjolras, in a trance-like state.

“Get some water and sleep.” Enjolras told him.

“Will do, Cap’ain.” Grantaire saluted, half climbing out of the car.

“You’re ridiculous.”

If you asked me if I love him.

“You’re…” Grantaire looked like he was searching for a word, he decided on, “not.”

“Goodnight ‘Taire.”

“G’night, Apollo.” He got fully out of the car, slammed the door and headed inside.

Enjolras didn’t pull away until he saw the light in Grantaire’s apartment go on and the artist waved out of the window.

I’d lie.

 

XI.

Grantaire won the betting game this time.

Enjolras’ heart didn’t flutter when it happened.

It didn’t.

 

XII.

He drowns in his dreams an exquisite extreme I know.

Enjolras smiled to himself as he left the Fairtrade, free-range meat Chinese near Grantaire’s studio, not even his soulmate could ruin that. Ever since he had literally walked into Grantaire, he and the brunette had been getting on a lot better. They still argued, but their arguments were never as venomous as before, they never intentionally wanted to cause the other pain and very rarely did, they met up for lunch a few times a week between lectures, they walked to the Musain together.

Lately Enjolras had been going to Grantaire’s studio when he wanted peace and quiet – the impending doom of finals in a few weeks made the library almost impossible to work in as slackers began to panic about their assignments and exams. So Grantaire has offered Enjolras the table in his studio to do his assignments and revise for his exams after finding the blonde sitting in the student carpark for some quiet. Surprisingly it worked, since all the artists listened to their headphones, or if they did listen to radios, the radios were on very quietly.

He’s as damned as he seems and more heaven than a heart could hold.

Enjolras had grown fond of Grantaire’s company and the way he seemed to get when the leader didn’t want to talk and so wouldn’t say much or when the blonde did want to talk and they’d debate until early hours of the next morning. Grantaire even frequently quizzed Enjolras to help him see what he needed to work on. So, to repay Grantaire and to show his thanks (and also because the artist frequently got lost in his work and forgot about basic needs) brought Chinese take-away with him when he needed the silence of Grantaire’s studio. He also posed for some of Grantaire’s work, organised his supplies so they could actually be found but helped inspire him – even if Enjolras wasn’t sure how he did so.

Enjolras’ feet walked the familiar path to Grantaire’s studio, his stomach feeling fluttery like he had butterflies in it (he’d checked this with both Combeferre and Joly and it was impossible unless he had swallowed butterflies whole, but then there was the whole stomach acid to contend with and then three of them had decided it was unlikely to happen to anyone). Enjolras briefly considered he may be nervous to see Grantaire, but that was ridiculous. He wasn’t nervous.

If I try to save him, my whole world could cave in.

He walked into the art building, nodding at a few of the students he recognised in the foyer from the rooms around Grantaire’s, they smiled back and a few eyed the food in the bag hungrily. Enjolras carried on to the steps down the corridor and into Grantaire’s class’ room.

The room was divided into sections by white screens. The screens acted like dividers but also pins boards as many people pinned important dates to them or photos for their courses or pieces of art work. The walls of Grantaire’s own space were different, they were filled with pictures and drawings and paintings of all the Les Amis, there were posters of rallies and brochures and leaflets, tickets from movies, trains, buses and an amusement park from the time that they had gone (and Courfeyrac, Grantaire and Bahorel had gotten a lifetime ban from), it always made Enjolras smile. The rest of the section consisted of a sink, a counter for all Grantaire’s art supplies, past works which lent against the walls, a huge easel and the table that Enjolras frequented when he studied and a few chairs.

I don’t know what he’s after, but he’s so beautiful.

Today, Grantaire was stood in front of the easel, swaying to whatever music he was playing, painting. His clothes were covered in paint and he had flecks of it all over his face and hair. Enjolras felt himself smile and then immediately stopped. He dropped his bag by the entrance to the section, put the take-away on the table and began setting it out.

Grantaire hadn’t noticed him, too engrossed with whatever he was painting, so Enjolras relished the silence. He’d gotten a few of Grantaire’s favourite dishes after they had had a debate on the egg fried rice and plain boiled rice, Enjolras could eat fancy rice if it made Grantaire smile – and it did make him smile (which made Enjolras smile and he didn’t want to think about why that was so shut that train of thought down quickly).

He’s magic and myth, as strong as what I believe.

Enjolras found himself humming the song to himself, recognising it from when Cosette went through her Kelly Clarkson phase. It was then that Grantaire noticed the extra noise in the otherwise quiet tranquillity and glanced back at Enjolras with a smile that the leader couldn’t decipher. It reminded him of the way Grantaire smiled at him in the car when Enjolras picked him up when he was drunk.

And do I try to change him? So hard not to blame him, hold on tight.

“Apollo.” He smiled, his eyes drifting from Enjolras to the food and his gaze widened and face broke out in a smile as he chewed on the end of a paint brush in a way that was extremely distracting, “You brought me food.”

“I figured you wouldn’t remember.” Enjolras answered.

“Let me just finish up here and wash my hands, took in if you want.” Grantaire answered, turning back to his painting after a nod from Enjolras.

And if I could hold on through the tears and the laughter, would it be beautiful?

Enjolras decided to wait for Grantaire and so took out his textbook, trying to read about the names for types of crimes (it was fairly basic and he just needed to see if he remembered), but he couldn’t focus and instead kept glancing up at Grantaire. Just admiring the way his hair curled around his ears and noting it was getting long, appreciating the way Grantaire’s shoulder rolled under his t-shirt, which actually fit well this time, noticing how well his jeans fit him and did wonderful things to his rear. He felt his face go red at the last one and tried to shake the thought.

I’m longing for love and the logical.

He then realised he was physically shaking his head and stopped, he took a drink of his water to try to cool down. It was then that Grantaire dropped a paintbrush from his pocket and bent over to pick it up. Enjolras felt even warmer, averted his eyes and drank more water. Thinking about one of his friends in this way was not appropriate, he didn’t want make it awkward for the others if the relationship was not meant to be – and it wasn’t, or else they’d be soulmates.

I’m waiting for some kind of miracle, waited so long, so long

He wondered what Grantaire thought on the matter and then shook his head, it didn’t matter what he thought, it would never happen between them. He returned his eyes back the text book, but could focus even less than last time. His vicious mind putting Grantaire related questions into his mind, like what would Grantaire’s perfect date be? What would Enjolras do if he was on a date with Grantaire? Did Grantaire even date?

Enjolras had never really paid much attention to the latter and now regretted it, maybe the artist and Bahorel had talked about one-night-stands before, he couldn’t remember. Enjolras would have asked one of his friends but then they’d make a huge deal over it and say Enjolras liked Grantaire and he didn’t, did he?

He’s never enough and still more than I can take

Enjolras was well aware he was in trouble. He couldn’t sort through what he was feeling, never being very in tune with his emotions and often relying on Combeferre to help him. He couldn’t ask Combeferre about it because he didn’t want Courfeyrac to know and make a big deal out of whether he did or did not like Grantaire in a more-than-platonic way, but he also couldn’t ask Combeferre to keep it from Courfeyrac because that wouldn’t be fair to either of his best friends. He sighed to himself.

Oh and I don’t know, I don’t what he’s after, but he’s so beautiful, such a beautiful disaster.

He almost laughed out loud at that line. The mess his mind was in about Grantaire was a beautiful disaster. He was just getting along with Grantaire and now his brain was making that awkward for him by adding these thoughts to his mind. Maybe he’d been thinking these things all along and only noticed now he and Grantaire saw each other frequently, now they weren’t fighting. Maybe that’s why Enjolras argued with Grantaire because subconsciously he was thinking these things and… no-

He needed Combeferre.

And if I hold on through the tears and the laughter, would it be beautiful? Or just a beautiful disaster?

Combeferre would help him arrange his thoughts and help him make sense of them, give him different interpretations and help Enjolras find the one that felt right. He was breathing too quickly and focused on slowing down, taking slower and deeper breaths to calm down. It helped. He returned his eyes to Grantaire, who seemed oblivious to Enjolras’ inner turmoil and was now washing his brushes and hands in the sink.

He’s so beautiful such a beautiful disaster.

Enjolras was composed by the time Grantaire finished, he took out his headphones and smiled at Enjolras. “You waited?”

“I did.” Enjolras nodded.

“Thank you and thanks for the food.” Grantaire sat opposite him and inhaled the smell.

Enjolras gave a faint smile, “No problem.”

“Let’s took in, I’ve been thinking about sweet and sour chicken all day.” Grantaire told him as he opened one of the plastic boxes and picked up a fork, handing one to Enjolras as well. “You must be a mind-reader.”

“I hope not.” Enjolras pulled a face which made Grantaire laugh around the piece of peeking duck he had gotten, Enjolras himself started with the vegetable curry. “Mind reading would suck if you can’t turn it off.”

And, that is how they argued all night about the ability to read minds.

 

XIII.

Song thirteen actually made Enjolras cry with how terrible it was.

Courfeyrac would never let him live it down.

 

XIV.

Enjolras had decided to go talk to someone about his Grantaire situation, but seeing as he couldn’t go to his best friends, the person themselves or the rest of his friends, he turned to the one person who would have his back over anyone else’s: his sister. Which is why he was laid in the foetal position on her purple and black queen sized bed. He pressed his face against the cool silk bedding, half to hide from her and half to hide from her room.

Cosette’s room reflected her personality more than her looks and so was painted in intricate purple, pink and black patterns, her furniture was all dark which made her room look fairly cluttered with her huge dresser, wardrobe, vanity, bookshelves, seats, desk and her queen sized bed. The gothic style spread over her whole flat and so gave it an uneasy air, adding the fact that the building used to be a gothic church before it was converted into housing for university students (which was part of the reason Cosette had fallen in love with it) the whole flat had an evil feel to it. Enjolras much preferred his more modern flat and so often arranged to meet at his flat or out somewhere, but the desperate time called for desperate measures.

He groaned slightly as his soulmate started to sing.

It’s a little bit funny, this feeling inside. I’m not one of those who can easily hide.

“So what brings you to me, my dear brother?” She asked, as she patted his head slightly and changed the music playing from the stereo next to her bed to the latest scream band she was into. “Soulmate still getting you down?”

“He’s singing Elton John.” Enjolras replied.

“I presume you didn’t come to talk about him?” She asked.

“I wanted to talk to you about something I can’t talk to Combeferre about.” Enjolras told her.

I don’t have much money, but boy if I did, I’d buy a big house where we both can live.

Cosette stopped half-patting his hair, half-hitting him in the face, sensing the seriousness of the conversation and turned to look at him. “Why can’t you tell ‘Ferre?”

“Because I can’t ask him to keep it from Courf’ and I don’t want Courfeyrac to know because he’ll make a big deal out of it and he’ll tell everyone.” Enjolras explained.

“This seems more serious than I was intending, one moment.” Cosette answered, she laid down opposite him, turning to face him so she could see him better, she mimicked his position and he briefly thought she looked really out of place in the room, with her pale pink summer dress and golden hair. “Okay, go on.”  
If I was a sculptor, but then again, no

“I just don’t know what to do.”

“Explain to me from the start?” She suggested.

“I think I have feelings for a person.” Enjolras told her.

Or a man who makes potions in a travelling show.

“Really?” her eyes widened with shock and excitement as she let out a small squeak. She abandoned the foetal position and instead just flailed around in excitement.

“Yes.” He was eighty percent sure he had feelings for an incredibly talented, cynical, artist.

“You found your soulmate? What did he say to make you realise?” she asked, firing questions like a 20Q ball or the Akinator app, Bahorel was so convinced was a real life magician inside his iPhone.

I know it’s not much but it’s the best I can do,

“I don’t know who my soulmate is.” He confessed, a light blush colouring his cheeks. Being in relationships that weren’t with your soulmate were looked down on, but not forbidden as it was a way to find your potential soulmate, however falling in love with a person who wasn’t your soul’s other half was simply not done.

“Oh, Enjolras, Can you tell me who you have feelings for?” She asked.

“Fine.” He paused, building up the courage, “It’s Grantaire.”

My gift is my song and this one’s for you.

Her eyes rounded them and her mouth made a strange shape, like she was supressing a smile, he frowned.

“Really?”

He answered, “I’m eighty percent sure I have feelings for him.”

And you can tell everybody this is your song.

“Why this change so suddenly?”

“I’ve started spending more time with him and getting to know him and honestly, I think I like what I’m finding out about him.” Enjolras told her, his cheeks were slightly pink and he looked flustered by the confession, Cosette fought the urge to audibly coo at him.

“What do you need from me?” She asked, to anyone else this might sound rude, but Cosette knew Enjolras wouldn’t come from her unless he needed her, and she wanted to be a certain on what he needed her for.

“To help me find out if I like him a hundred percent.” Enjolras answered, he rolled onto his back and stared up at her ceiling as she stared at him.

“Okay, how does this he make you feel?”

I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words how wonderful life is, while you’re in the world.

“Like my stomach and heart are fluttery, I’ve been feeling nervous but once I’m with him it’s fine, I feel right and good.” He answered.

“Okay.” She nodded, “Should I be taking notes?”

“What?” He turned to her, back onto his side, frowning, “Why would you do that?”

“I just feel like I should be taking notes.” She shrugged.

“Welcome to the torture of university.” Her brother said with a small smile.

“Don’t remind me…” She groaned and wrinkled her face into an expression of unadulterated disgust.

I sat on the roof and kicked off the moss, a few of the verses, well, they’ve got me quite cross.

“So, ‘Taire makes you feel fluttery and nervous. Do you miss him when he’s not around?” Cosette asked, she used an arm to push herself up so she could see him better.

Enjolras furrowed his brow in thought. Now Cosette had mentioned it, he did feel a pang of wrong that the artist’s messy curls and sarcasm weren’t there. “Yes.”

“Do you think about kissing him?” Cosette wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. Enjolras felt his face heat and her eyes lit up with joy, she started squealing with excitement, “Enjy! Awh! You do!”

But the sun’s been quite kind while I wrote this son, it’s for people like you that keep it turned on.

“A few times.” He admitted.

“Do you think he’s hot?” She asked.

“He is actually very attractive under the beanies and paint.” Enjolras nodded.

“Have you seen his tattoos?”

Excuse me forgetting, but these things I do, you see I’ve forgotten if they’re green or they’re blue.

“Yes.” He nodded, his mind wandered to the swimming trip all Les Amis had taken, before Cosette had joined, Grantaire had forgone a t-shirt which meant they could all see his tattoos, going up the top of his right arm, round his shoulders and down his sides, under his waist band. Enjolras shut the memory off quickly.

“Do you like them?”

“I do.”

“Do you think about him a lot?”

“I do.” Enjolras nodded, “When my soulmate sings…. I know this is bad… but I think of how well the songs apply to him.”

Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean, yours are the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen.

“Do they…” She remarked absentmindedly then sat up quickly, “Screw it, I’m taking notes.”

She shuffled over to one of the two bed side tables and grabbed a notepad and pen, she then wiggled back to her previous position and started writing everything down. It took a few moments, but she wrote up all the questions and answers.

“I think you do like him.”

“A hundred percent?” He face shifted into an emotion she couldn’t decipher.

“A hundred percent.” She confirmed with a solemn nod.

And you can tell everybody, this is your song.

“Shit.” He rolled onto his back and covered his eyes. “This isn’t good.”

“Hmmm?” She frowned.

“He’s not my soulmate.” Enjolras sighed forlornly.

“How do you know?” She asked.

“Because, he’d say something.” Enjolras answered, “He’d never be quiet for so long. Besides, we’re not compatible, we literally argued almost every time we saw each other until recently.”

It may be quite simple, but now that it’s done,

She shook her head, “You need to talk to him.”

“It wouldn’t work.” He shook his head.

“You won’t know unless you try.” She trilled, “Besides, the world needs to change so people who don’t find their soulmates or don’t want to can be accepted – you literally have a revolution for it, so be their example.”

Something lit up in his eyes then and she immediately regretted it.

“That’s not a bad idea.”

I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words

“I didn’t mean it seriously, you’d be crucified if you did that.” She told him, “Just talk to Grantaire about it.”

“Eventually.” Enjolras decided, “I will talk to him eventually.”

She rolled her eyes and shoved him slightly, “I can’t make you, but I will nag you until you do.”

“Fine.” He shoved back.

“Fine.” Shove.

“Good.” Shove.

“Good.” Shove.

Enjolras fell off the bed with a thud. Cosette laughed.

How wonderful life is while you’re in the world.

 

XV.

“Do I look hot?” Cosette asked as she and her brother walked up the steps to Jehan and Grantaire’s loft.

“I’m the worst person to ask, ‘Sette, a) I’m your brother b) in Courfeyrac’s words I’m ‘hella’ gay c) I have my own problems to deal with at the moment and d) I’m your brother.” Enjolras told her.

What would I do without your smart mouth?

“I just want to look irresistible for ‘Ponine.” She whined, she stuck her bottom lip out like a small child would and he shook his head and smiled slightly in amusement – she may be all dressed up like an evil villain, but she was still his baby sister.

She did look like she had jumped straight out of YA novel, the outfit they had found was a figure hugging, knee-length dress that looked like it was two separate pieces. The top half was in the style of a corset, it was a deep purple with intricate patterns stitched into it, the bottom half was a velveteen pencil skirt in a dark, almost black, purple. She had completed the look with purple spikey high-heels, her mother’s locket and a simple silver bracelet. Her golden curls were swept up in a complicated updo, her make up emphasised her eyes and lips making her look more mysterious.

Drawing me in and you kick me out

“You do look nice.” He said.

“Nice isn’t going to persuade her that we belong together.” Cosette rolled her eyes, “but thank you, you look nice too.”

You’ve got my head spinning, no kidding I can pin you down.

Enjolras smiled slightly at that. Cosette had insisted on picking out his outfit because of his situation with Grantaire, and so, that was why he was wearing red skinny jeans, a white V-neck and a grey blazer – he felt lost without his red coat and was silently pinning for it.

“Thank you.” He answered as they reached the top of the stairs and waited a moment, trying to catch their breaths so they didn’t look so unfit.

Cosette smiled and knocked on their door. The door stood out in the grey corridor, as it was the only colourful thing there, Grantaire had painted flowers all over the wooden surface and Jehan had added quotes from his favourite poems in between them, it was really was a work of art and maybe that’s the reason it hadn’t been painted over (that and that every time it was painted over, Grantaire and Jehan painted back over it).

What’s going on in that beautiful mind?

Jehan and Grantaire’s door opened and the poet himself was stood beaming at them. He wore a floral shirt with rainbow trousers and his green Doc Martins, his auburn hair was plaited and pinned up with flowers weaved into it. The smell of flowers leaked from the apartment and into the hallway as per usual when Jehan opened his door.

“Enjy, ‘Sette!” Jehan grinned, “You’re the last two to arrive!”

“Happy Birthday Jehan!” Cosette exclaimed as she pulled the poet into a hug. Then, she added in a conspiring whisper. “It’s Enjy’s fault, his hair wouldn’t cooperate with what I wanted it to.”

“The golden locks cannot be contained.” Jehan agreed solemnly as they broke apart.  
I’m on your magical mystery ride.

“Happy Birthday.” Enjolras hugged the birthday boy and Jehan dragged him into the apartment.

“Thank you, both of you.” Jehan laughed, releasing Enjolras and skipping into his apartment.

Jehan’s and Grantaire’s loft was a favourite of all Les Amis. It spanned across two floors, with their kitchen, lounge and study on the downstairs and their bedrooms, bathroom and miniature library above and only covering the kitchen and study, leaving the lounge spacious and open, making it a perfect place to socialise.

Especially when they had a party and Grantaire and Feuilly were on decoration duty, the lounge was decorated with lots of different kinds of flowers and poems, there were balloons all over and music was playing loudly. All their friends were, as Jehan said, already there and sat in the comfy seats chatting and drinking. Enjolras saw Combeferre and Courfeyrac talking with their heads together, he saw Bahorel, Feuilly and Grantaire chatting – he ignored how his heart went funny at the sight of the artist – Marius was talking to Éponine but they both turned to stare when Cosette walked in and the blonde made her way immediately to them, Bossuet, Musichetta and Joly were attempting to dance to the music. There were other people there, people from Jehan’s Creative Writing class and some of his co-workers and their other non Les Amis friends.

And I’m so dizzy, don’t know what hit me, but I’ll be alright.

Jehan hurried from the kitchen and jumped up onto one of the chairs, “Let’s get this party started!”

They all cheered at that, everyone high on the merriment. They danced and mingled, eat the food on the buffet, danced some more and drank too much.

Which is what Enjolras is blaming the disaster that was the rest of the night on.

My head’s underwater but I’m breathing fine

“Any luck on guessing your soulmate?” Courfeyrac shouted over the loud pounding of the music. Enjolras was sat on one of the sofas and Courfeyrac decided to drape himself over the blond leader, breaking his discussion with Grantaire. He smelt like alcohol and glitter, Enjolras wrinkled his nose.

“No, Courf’, I told you I don’t think I’m ready.” Enjolras answered awkwardly, he could feel his face heating.

“When will you be ready?” the flamboyant drama student pouted.

You’re crazy and I’m out of my mind

“I just don’t want you to be lonely Enjy.” Courfeyrac whined. “Our group is pairing off, or tripling in your sister’s case. It’s time, baby.”

“No, Courf’, I-“ Enjolras stuttered, he was definitely blushing.

“No buts Enjy, it’s not hard to work out who it is, if you just try.” Courfeyrac sighed exasperated, he took Enjolras’ face in his hands and brought their faces together.

“Careful Courf’, your boyfriend’ll get jealous.” Grantaire warned, though his tone was playful, his eyes were not.

’Cause all of me loves all of you

“Sure it’s my boyfriend who’ll be jealous?” Courfeyrac glanced over his shoulder at the artist, who blushed.

“You don’t have a boyfriend.” Enjolras frowned, Courfeyrac wiped his head back around.

“Are you serious?” Courfeyrac asked, whipping his head back around to look at Enjolras.

Love your curves and all your edges, all your perfect imperfections.

“Are you?”

“I found my soulmate Enjolras, we’ve been dating each other ever since.” Courfeyrac told him.

“What?” Enjolras frowned, this was all new to him.

“In fact, he’s over there.” Courfeyrac pointed towards the kitchen where Combeferre and Marius were talking.

Give your all to me and I’ll give my all to you.

“Marius is Cosette and Éponine’s soulmate….” Enjolras frowned.

“Next to the Freckle King.” Courfeyrac rolled his eyes.

“What…. Combeferre?” Enjolras asked.

You’re my end and my beginning, even when I lose I’m winning

“Duh.”

“Since when?”

‘Cause I give you all of me and you give me all of you

“At the start of uni, I heard him singing in the shower and it matched in my head.” Courfeyrac shrugged, “We thought you knew.”

Enjolras stood up, pushing Courfeyrac off him and not caring as his friend fell flat on his ass on the floor, “No, no one told me.”

“Apollo…” Grantaire warned, standing.

How many times do I have to tell you, even when you’re crying you’re beautiful too.

“We announced it at a meeting…” Courfeyrac frowned as he got up.

“Enjolras was ill that meeting.” Grantaire told him.

“You’re my best friends and you never told me?” Enjolras asked, hurt clouding his senses.

The world is beating you down, I’m around through every mood.

“We thought you knew.” Courfeyrac said, he grabbed Enjolras’ arm when the blond turned away, but it only succeeded in making Enjolras angrier, he jerked his arm back like Courfeyrac’s touch burnt him.

“Why didn’t you give me a heads up? Courf’ it’s been almost three years!” Enjolras shouted.

By now Courfeyrac’s pleading looks to Combeferre got through and the bespectacled student approached them.

You’re my downfall, you’re my muse, my worst distraction, my rhythm and blues.

“Enjolras?” Combeferre asked.

“You and Courf, is this true?” Enjolras countered.

I can’t stop singing, it’s ringing in my head for you.

“We’re soulmates…” Combeferre answered hesitantly, his brows furrowing.

“He didn’t know.” Courfeyrac said.

“Enjolras…” Combeferre trailed off, usure what to say.

My head’s underwater but I’m breathing fine.

“Are any of our other members secretly soulmates?” Enjolras asked, voice full of pain and betrayal, “Or did I not need to know?”

“Enjolras…” Courfeyrac gasped, he was hurt.

“Neither of you thought to mention it? Never thought to bring it up? Even in passing? Did you not think I could take it or did you not want to tell me?” Enjolras asked. “Did you not think I’d want to know that my two best friends are supposed to spend the rest of their lives together?”

“Enjolras!” Grantaire scolded.

You’re crazy and I’m out of my mind.

“Because I do want to know.”

“Yet you don’t want to know who your soulmate is?” Courfeyrac snapped, his hurt and the alcohol making his sadness turn to anger. “He’s hurting, Enjolras. Every day you don’t want to know, he dies a little inside, he’s in love with you and you continually brush him aside like he means nothing! It hurts to watch never mind live through it! You’re putting him through hell, Enjolras! It’s the very definition of selfish!”

“Don’t turn this back on me.” Enjolras argued back.

“It’s true though Enjolras, you don’t know how many times I’ve had to piece him back together after you’ve destroyed him, after you’ve ripped him to shreds and you don’t know how many times it kills me and all of us to see it because you simply don’t want to know who he is.” Éponine joined in.

‘Cause all of you, loves all of me.

"Because you can really lecture me on being selfish, Éponine.” Enjolras said.

“It’s self-preservation! My heart has been broken before and sorry, I’m reluctant to get back out there!” Éponine snapped.

Love your curves and all your edges, all your perfect imperfections.

“You don’t know how much Cosette had been trying to get you to realise she and Marius won’t hurt you!”

“Like you can talk about not knowing things!” Éponine laughed.

“At least he’s trying!” Cosette shouted back, standing by her brother. Enjolras was grateful for the five foot two ball of anger that was his sister. Now she even had the expression of an evil villainess, her anger shone through and made her look terrifying.

Give your all to me, I’ll give my all to you

“How Cosette? How are things different now?” Courfeyrac shouted.

“He’s getting there, just early he came to me for advice.” Cosette said, “He’s almost there, I swear, he’s trying so hard.”

You’re my end and my beginning, even when I lose I’m winning.

“I’ve yet to see his efforts.” Éponine sneered.

“Like you can talk, what effort have you put into us?” Cosette countered.

“At least I know who my soulmates are, Enjolras can’t say the same.”

‘Cause I give you all of me and you give me all of you

“So? Neither can half of the world!” Cosette yelled and Éponine retorted and they argued their separate argument whilst Marius tried to calm them both down.

“Why didn’t you come to us?” Combeferre asked, “We’re your best friends Enjolras.”

“You’d tell Courfeyrac and he’d tell everyone. At least now I know why that is, but seeing as you didn’t tell me I don’t see now, why I should tell you.” Enjolras answered, “I’m not ready.”

Cards on the table, we’re both showing hearts.

“It think it’s about time you get ready!” Éponine yelled.

“It’s been too long Enjolras. It’s killing him inside.” Courfeyrac shook his head. “Everyone can see it, everyone but you.”

Risking it all, though it’s hard.

“If he’s not ready that’s fine.” Grantaire spoke then, “His soulmate will understand and if not, he’s not worthy of Enjolras.”

Enjolras met Grantaire’s eyes then and sent a silent thank you.

‘Cause all of you, loves all of me

“Why are you sticking up for him?” Éponine shrieked. “Oh wait… stupid question! You always do because you’re in lo-”

“Éponine!” Grantaire roared, “Don’t you dare.”

Love your curves and all your edges, all your perfect imperfections

“Grantaire, we’re fighting for…” Courfeyrac stared at the artist.

“His soulmate doesn’t need you to fight his battles for him.” Grantaire turned to Courfeyrac

Give your all to me, I’ll give my all to you

“But it’ll never happen if we don’t do something, he’ll never be ready.”

“I will Courfeyrac, but it’s nice to know you have so much confidence in me.” Enjolras said.

Your’re my end and my beginning, even when I lose I’m winning

“Enjolras…”

“No, I’m done for tonight.” Enjolras shook his head and then turned to their host, “Jehan, I’m sorry this ended in disaster, but I hope you have a good rest of your birthday, I’m going to go now.”

‘Cause I give you all of me

“Yeah…” Jehan said in shock.

And you give me all of you

Enjolras nodded and then fled. He was too focused on his anger and hurt that he didn’t notice the song in his head matched the song playing in the apartment.

 

XVI.

Enjolras managed to get half way down the street before he heard someone shout his name.

“Enjolras!”

They sounded like they had just gotten out of the apartment block and so Enjolras quickened his pace, he didn’t want to talk to any of them. It was his own choice he didn’t want to find his soulmate and now he was even more set in that decision, now he knew he liked Grantaire. It wouldn’t be fair to his soulmate if he was in love with someone else, though he couldn’t tell everyone with Grantaire there and if it got out into the public…. He’d be ridiculed and isolated.

“Apollo!” The person shouted and Enjolras stopped. It was Grantaire. No one else called him that and he suddenly felt fond of the nickname he despised.

He turned to face the artist as Grantaire ran over to him and when he had stopped running he was barely out breath, Enjolras was jealous, he’d have been out of breath just running down the stairs.

“What do you want ‘Taire?” Enjolras asked bluntly, too hurt and angry to try to soften his words.

“You’re my friend Enjolras, I’m not going to leave you alone when you feel like shit.” Grantaire answered with a small smile, “I’ve been in similar places and I didn’t deal with it well. I needed someone and I think you do to.”

Though being friend-zoned hurt, it was just added to the giant pile of hurt accumulating in his heart, Enjolras nodded. He was glad he and Grantaire had been getting on recently, he really did value the cynical artist more than he let on.

“Fine, that’s your decision.” Enjolras said, he turned on his heel and started walking.

“Did you really not know they were bonded?” Grantaire asked as he caught up with Enjolras again. He’d stood in shock for a moment, not quite believing Enjolras was letting him tag along.

“I didn’t. They never told me and they never did anything remotely soulmate like when I was around.” Enjolras frowned.

“Gods, what if you hadn’t found out tonight and you found out when they asked you to be the best man and maid of honour?” Grantaire asked.

“And I’d be both positions because?”

“You’re their best friend and fuck traditional gender roles.” Grantaire dismissed this with a wave of his hand and the carried on his previous point, “What would you have done?”

“Probably more of what you saw tonight.” Enjolras shrugged.

“Shit.” Grantaire commented.

“I don’t want to talk about it now.” Enjolras said.

“Well,” Grantaire started, “We can do anything you want provided it’s not something like flying or being invisible. So, what do you want to do?”

“Anything?” Enjolras asked and glanced at Grantaire from under his blonde curls.

“Yeah.” Grantaire gulped, the streetlights were doing wonderful things for Enjolras’ elegant face. Grantaire watched Enjolras as he thought.

The blonde decided, “I want to drink ridiculous amounts of alcohol and dance for the rest of the night.”

Grantaire blinked at him in surprise, “I was expecting set traps in their rooms or something, but sure.”

“Come with me?” Enjolras asked.

“Of course, Apollo.” Grantaire answered without much thought, he’d follow Enjolras anywhere.

“Thank goodness, because I have really no clue where the best clubs are and you often go out and maybe you do know-“ Enjolras babbled.

“We’ll go to the best place, don’t worry.” Grantaire smiled.

And in that moment Enjolras’ pain subsided and he smiled back at the artist.

That should have been the warning.

 

The club Grantaire had chosen was hot, sweaty and full of people, exactly what Enjolras wanted. Some loud disco music was playing currently and though he couldn’t make out many words, he could feel them and somehow knew what they were. The dance floor was heaving as people danced under the strobe lights, even the bar was packed with people shouting over the music. It was perfect.

High dive into frozen waves where the past comes back to life.

Grantaire put his hand on Enjolras’ arm to get the blonde’s attention and he jumped before turning to look at Grantaire.

“Do you want a drink?” Grantaire yelled.

Instead of try to reply, Enjolras nodded and Grantaire moved his hand to Enjolras’ back to lead him towards the bar. It took them a while but they got to a spot, they were pressed tightly together and Enjolras felt himself blush.

Fight fear for the selfish pain, it was worth it every time.

“What do you want?”

“Something with a high alcohol content.” Enjolras shouted and Grantaire nodded and then proceeded to shout to the barman.

Enjolras had no idea what Grantaire had ordered but when it was given to him, Enjolras was pleased. It was a strange mix of colours, so some cocktail, he sipped it and was overwhelmed by the sweetness and the alcohol and he ended up spluttering. Grantaire gave him a worried look.

Hold still right before we crash ‘cause we both know how this ends.

“It’s perfect!” Enjolras shouted and proceeded to drown the rest of it.

Grantaire was amazed and drank the rest of his drink quickly.

A clock ticks ‘til it breaks your glass and I drown in you again.

“You dancing?” Enjolras asked.

“You asking?” Grantaire replied, understanding the quote.

“I’m asking.” Enjolras grinned.

“I’m dancing.” Grantaire laughed.

Enjolras lead, pulling Grantaire by the hand to the dancefloor. They got fairly into the middle and were crushed together by the other dancers, Enjolras felt his face heat as he looked down slightly into Grantaire’s deep blue eyes. They paused for what seemed an eternity before the crowd moved again and let them stand a little apart.

“Come on!” Grantaire shouted and pulled Enjolras into a dance.

‘Cause you are the piece of me I wish I didn’t need.

Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was that Enjolras was tired of the pain he felt, but he let go and started moving freely, gyrating and dancing with Grantaire. It was exhilarating. Grantaire even seemed to lose his inhibitions and got into it, twirling Enjolras in the limited space and even dipping at one point.

Chasing relentlessly, still fight and I don’t know why

They moved together almost in sync and Enjolras found he was smiling genuinely as he laughed at the goofy dance moves Grantaire did – for example: the funky chicken and bad 70’s dance moves. Enjolras even joined in, though he’d deny it to his grave.

If our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy?

Enjolras felt himself forgetting for that night, just how his friends had hurt him. Not just because he wasn’t told his two best friends were bonded, but how quickly Éponine had taken the chance to lash out at him. He and Éponine had never been best friends, but he did feel a certain comradery with her, but her willingness to argue with him gave him doubts.

If our love’s insanity, why are you my clarity?

Though it had been a bloodshed, everyone turning on each other. How easily a group could be torn apart, Enjolras mused. He shook his head and let it go, turning around to face Grantaire again just as someone pushed him forward, into the artist. Instead of moving apart they stayed closer and danced closer, every point of contact agony for Enjolras.

Walk on through a red parade and refuse to make amends.

Why did Grantaire move so smoothly? Enjolras knew he danced frequently, it was one of the ways he stayed in shape, he just didn’t know how sensual he made it look. Or how it would make him feel. Dancing with Grantaire was different to dancing with Cosette, they simply mocked the classic dances moves, or with Courfeyrac, Enjolras just let Courfeyrac lead in his shambles of a waltz, or with Jehan when they bounced on their feet, or even Éponine and Musichetta, in which they danced circles around each other in amusing ways to get the other to laugh.

It cuts deep through our ground and makes us forget all common sense.

No, dancing with Grantaire was different, they moved together as one instead of two separate beings, they were close together and sharing more of their personal space than Enjolras usually liked. It made him feel like his skin burnt wherever Grantaire touched and that electricity kept shooting up his nerves. Though it sounded painful it was a beautiful feeling and one he’d never experienced before, he never wanted it to stop, but at the same time couldn’t wait to feel normal again. It felt right but also wrong, like having salt and sweet popcorn at the same time. It was intoxicating.

Speaking of intoxicating…

“I’m going to get a drink!” Enjolras yelled to Grantaire. The brunet nodded and followed as Enjolras moved off the dance floor.

Don’t speak as I try to leave ‘cause we both know what we’ll chose.

They both ordered another drink, Enjolras ordered another cocktail, he wasn’t drunk enough to deal with how dancing with the artist made him feel. Whereas Grantaire got a vodka and coke, claiming one of them needed to still have a grasp on reality, no matter how hazy it was.

“Having fun?” Grantaire asked, something like hope in his eyes.

“Yeah.” Enjolras smiled, “Or I will when we dance again.”

If you pull then I’ll push too deep and I’ll fall back to you.

They finished their drinks quickly and Enjolras tried to order another, but Grantaire ushered him away – “You’ll regret it in the morning Apollo.”

Enjolras sighed, but followed Grantaire to the dance floor and they danced again, even closer than before – the effects of the alcohol clouding Enjolras’ judgement. They sang to the song they knew and Enjolras found himself understanding why Courfeyrac wanted to go clubbing more often.

‘Cause you are the piece of my I wish I didn’t need.

Enjolras sang into Grantaire’s ear, enjoying the blush on the artist’s cheeks. Especially loving the way the dark blue eyes followed his every movement, Enjolras began moving more seductively (or at least he thought it was seductive, he felt stupid doing it, but Grantaire’s eyes darkened and he didn’t seem to be complaining) and Enjolras even danced with some other people, loving the what he hoped was jealousy flare in Grantaire’s eyes.

Chasing relentlessly, still fight and I don’t know why.

Enjolras was loving this. Grantaire grabbed him around the waist and pulled him closer and Enjolras smirked and kept moving.

“Enjolras…” Grantaire trailed off ad Enjolras smiled devilishly at him.

“Dance, ‘Taire, dance.” Enjolras pleaded, picking up Grantaire’s hands and moving them.

If our love if tragedy, why are you my remedy?

“Enjolras… I, uh.” Grantaire looked like he was struggling with something.

“Please R.” Enjolras asked and maybe it was the nickname but Grantaire sighed and complied.

If our love’s insanity, why are you my clarity?

Through Grantaire’s dancing was less keen than before, like he was putting up reserves or some kind of barrier. Enjolras growled in frustration.

“I’m getting another drink.” Enjolras announced.

“Do you really think you should?” Grantaire asked, “There’s a lot of alcohol in those cocktails and you’re not good at holding your alcohol.”

“Are you saying I’m a lightweight?”

Why are you my clarity?

“Yes.”

“Hmmmph.” Enjolras answered.

“I’d get some water if I were you.” Grantaire said.

“No you wouldn’t.”

Why are you my remedy?

Grantaire had to smile at that, “True, but it’s what you should do.”

“Should do.” Enjolras repeated, “I need some air.”

Why are you my clarity?

In a fit of bravery Enjolras took Grantaire’s hand as the brunet started leading them out of the club. The blonde fought the electricity that seemed to flow between them and focused on following the artist. It wasn’t long before they went outside into the cooling air outside the club. The music was still playing from inside.

Why are you my remedy?

“Grantaire…” Enjolras started, they needed to talk about this and Enjolras wanted to do it now – the effects of all the alcohol he had consumed.

“Yeah?” Grantaire asked.

“Kiss me.” Enjolras demanded, it seemed to be the only action that made sense, Grantaire was gaping at him, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open.

If our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy?

So Enjolras moved forward – or at least he did in his head, in real life he fell against Grantaire. Enjolras smiled at Grantaire and pressed their lips together

It took a few seconds before Grantaire was kissing him back and then Enjolras sighed into the kiss, waves of right washed through him, he felt his blood rushing in his veins, his heart beat seemed almost audible at that moment. He suddenly understood why Musichetta, Joly and Bossuet were always kissing, why Courfeyrac always wanted to play ‘Spin The Bottle’. Kissing was amazing. Enjolras felt like he was born to kiss Grantaire, soulmates be damned.

But with that thought he froze. Grantaire felt the change in him and pulled back, somehow one of the artist’s hands was tangled in Enjolras’ hair and the other around his waist – Enjolras’ own were cupping Grantaire’s face, Grantaire’s face that was full of worry and fear.

“Enjolras?” the brunet asked.

The blonde shook his head once, then twice. He’d kissed someone who wasn’t his soulmate and he’d never wanted it to stop. He felt his eyes water and he backed away from the artist shaking his head, “I-I… uh…. R, I’m sorry.”

If our love’s insanity,

And with that he turned and ran, ignoring the heartbroken sounds of Grantaire calling after him, ignoring the pain and wrongness at leaving the artist in his heart, ignoring the hurt from earlier and he felt numb as he ran into the night.

why are you my clarity?

 

XVII.

Enjolras had run through the streets that night until a time when he knew Combeferre and Courfeyrac would give up waiting for him and only then had he gone back to the apartment and tiptoed to his room, past his flatmates who had fallen asleep in a pile by his door.

Where they still might be, he didn’t know, he hadn’t been out of his room for five days in a fit of defiance and self-imposed exile.

So Enjolras was sat in his room on his bed with his laptop, writing a paper for Les Amis after five days of looking at the same four walls, with only quick dashes to the bathroom and kitchen when he knew no one else was there. He had missed a meeting and ignored every attempt one of his friends made to get him to talk to them. First it had been Combeferre and Courfeyrac to apologise (they thought he knew, blah, blah, it’s not hard to see, he tuned it out) then Jehan had turned up, followed by Cosette, Marius and Éponine – the latter apologised and he apologised back, the former yelled at him though gushed about how her and Marius’ plan had worked partially. Bahorel and Feuilly turned up next, then Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta, then Cosette again this time sounding more violent without her counterparts to calm her down, Courfeyrac, this time more dramatic.

Surprisingly, or maybe not considering the circumstances, Grantaire was the only one not to talk to him. He wanted to see the artist, to talk to him and explain how he felt, he wanted to show him how much he cared, soulmates be damned. Though he refused to dwell on the artist for too long for fear he’d break down without anyone to help him this time. He was broken from his concentration on not having a mental breakdown by unfamiliar chords starting after his soulmate’s voice began, clear and sharp but full of emotions.

Can you tell me what it you’re afraid of? And can you tell me, why I’m afraid it’s me?

Enjolras was taken back by this. It was almost as if his thoughts of Grantaire had conjured a song that fitted them almost perfectly.

Can I touch you? We’ve been fine for so long now, how can something go wrong that I can’t see?

That’s when he began to figure out who was singing to him.

Cause I’m holding on, and I won’t let go, I just thought you should know.

His soulmate seemed to care for him. No, with the emotion in the voice, he realised his soulmate had feelings for him.

I am the one who knows you, I am the one who cares, I am the one who’s always been there. I am the one who’s helped you and if you think that I just don’t give a damn. Then you just don’t know who I am.

That’s when he realised they may be slightly mad he hadn’t realised who they were.

The song played on and Enjolras felt the shivers at how true the words were to him. Though there seemed to be pauses in the words he didn’t understand. So, he resorted to consulting The Oracle, a.k.a: Google (though other search engines are available).

Will you watch as I drown and wonder why?

After a few minutes of research he found the song was from a musical, ‘Next To Normal’ and despite the relevance to his situation, the character who sang that part was called Dan Goodman. The song was split between three characters, Dan, his son Gabe and his wife Diana, though the latter two parts had no relevance to him so he focused on Dan’s part., the part his soulmate sang.

He grasped the idea that his soulmate was doubting his significance to Enjolras, or more appropriately if Enjolras knew who he was. “Can you tell me why I’m afraid it’s me?” Something had happened between him and this person, causing distance – well, that could be Enjolras’ eruption, when the stress of the incessant singing, Combeferre and Courf and work for his degree had built up and he’d yelled at half of his friends and retreated into self-inflicted exile. So, his soulmate could be half of the Les Amis. Or maybe it was the kiss…

Tell me what to do, tell me who to be, so I can see what you see.

The song also hinted, they hadn’t gotten along in the past. But suddenly they were getting along.

I am the one who’ll hold you, I am the one who’ll stay,

It was clear they would stay throughout whatever happened and that meant a lot to Enjolras in that moment.

I am the one, I won’t walk away, yeah, yeah, yeah,

They won’t walk away because they can’t?

I am the one who’ll heal you. And, now you tell me that I won’t give a damn.

But that line pointed to one person, one person who continually didn’t give a damn, didn’t help but hindered, who seemingly had no point to be with his group, who interrupted, who was rude and loud, who was…

I know you know who I am

Shit.

It made sense now he knew. His reactions to him, the heat, the flutters, the anger.

That’s who I am.

The array of songs, chosen specifically to press his buttons.

Yeah, I thought you should know.

And the betting, that explains why one of the Les Amis always won.

I am the one who knows you, I am the one who cares.

Because it was all a big game.

I am the one who’s always been there.

A way to mess with him until he realised what was going on.

I am the one who needs you.

Well, now he knew.

And if you think that I just don’t give a damn,

He pushed his laptop off his knee, changed into the first pair of vaguely cleaned clothes, picked up his phone, wallet and keys, unlocked the door for the first time in days and left his room. He ignored the exclamations from Combeferre and Courfeyrac as he stormed passed them and left the apartment.

He was on a mission and nothing would stop him.

Then you just don’t know who I am.

Now I do.

 

VXIII.

Enjolras eventually decided to rest at the Musain, after his search had ended up blank despite searching several pubs, bars and cafes, his soulmate frequented often, to no avail. He ordered a coffee from the tired looking barista – he vaguely remembered was called Camille and one of Musichetta and Cosette’s friends - and tipped her extra which brought a smile to her face. He took the coffee and retired to a comfy armchair in the back of the café.

He wasn’t sat for long before the lights dimmed and when they turned back on the barista was on the stage, looking less tired. Her blue hair seemed to glow under the stage lights and she seemed more at ease and more energetic. It was clear she was used to being on the stage and talking to people.

“Alright, welcome to Acoustic Night. I’m Camille, your barista and host for the night. Let’s get cracking then, first off we have our first singer, he’s an adorable music student from the local uni, very sweet and kind so give it up for him!” She gave a curtsey and moved off the stage and back to her bar.

The lights went down and then back on and a twenty-something guy came on the stage, looking nervous. He gave an introduction and then started to play, he was good, a little unpolished but good. A few more singers went after him and each time Camille gave a little introduction.

This time she smiled more genuinely, though talked less. “So we have our last singer. He hates long introductions and me bigging him up so we’ll keep it short, like he is.” There was a groan from the backroom and she grinned, “I had to! Anyway, he tips very well, a little scruffy but a very good laugh, so enjoy!”

The lights went down again, for longer this time. Enjolras closed his eyes briefly. From behind his eyelids he registered the lights went back on. A guitar began to play and then the singer sang, both in the café and Enjolras’ mind. He gasped.

“When you were here before, couldn’t look you in the eye.” His voice was deep and gravely, a hundred times better than in his head and he sighed, feeling a smile form on his lips, but the sadness in the voice made him stop. “You’re just like an angel, your skin makes me cry…”

Enjolras opened his eyes and watched the figure on the stage.

“I wish I was special, you’re so fucking special,” Was this truly how he felt? “But I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here? I don’t belong here.”

“No, you belong here, next to me.” Enjolras whispered.

“I don’t care if it hurts, I want to have control, I want a perfect body, I want a perfect soul.”

Enjolras watched, him, his soulmate, on the stage. It was different, to see him lit up with lights, instead of tooked away at the back of the room. He was now demanding attention instead of deflecting it away. Looking comfortable and had an easiness like Camille did too, he was used to performing and Enjolras wondered why he’d never know about it before, he wondered if any of the other Les Amis knew.

“I want you to notice when I’m not around, you’re so fucking special, I wish I was special.”

He’d lost his self-consciousness and seemed more confident on the stage, guitar in hand, his eyes half-closed and voice choked with emotion.

“But I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here? I don’t belong here.”

Enjolras felt something inside of his snap and suddenly he was filled with emotions, he couldn’t name them all after suppressing them for so long, but they flooded through him as he watched.

“He’s running out again, he’s running out, he run, run, run, run… run.” He sang so much pain and sadness in his voice.

Enjolras didn’t realise he was crying and had moved to the front of the room, until someone passed him a tissue. Which he took with a thank you, but didn’t use.

“Whatever makes you happy, whatever you want.” Now the singer opened his eyes and scanned the room, against the odds his eyes met Enjolras’ and didn’t leave, “You’re so fucking special,”

Enjolras shook his head but held his gaze.

“I wish I was special…. But, I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo, what the hell am I doing here?”

Months later Enjolras would tell him, list every reason he was here and kiss a different part of his body to show his love. He’d tell it was to paint, to dance, to box, to sing, to argue with him, to make his points better, to be there for their friends, to love him, to live life, to experience the world.

“I don’t belong here. I don’t belong here.”

“You do.” Enjolras whispered, “Belong with me.”

Enjolras looked up at him, face tear-stained but hopeful and Grantaire, his soulmate, looked down, his face wasn’t happy, but it wasn’t angry. He seemed sad but hopeful, tired and excited, shocked and a little apprehensive. Enjolras felt the same. They had a lot to talk about it with each other and their other friends, apologies had to be made, hugs given, promises remade, talks to have without ending in arguments. It wasn’t an ending for either of them though.

It was the start.

**Author's Note:**

> Grantaire’s Songs Designed To Drive Enjolras Insane With The Help Of Les Amis De L’ABC, Especially Courfeyrac And Cosette:  
> 1\. What Makes You Beautiful – One Direction  
> 2\. Friday – Rebecca Black  
> 3\. 22 – Taylor Swift  
> 4\. Last Friday Night (T.G.I.F) – Katy Perry  
> 5\. Baby – Justin Bieber  
> 6\. Rock Star – Hannah Montana  
> 7\. Amarillo – Tony Christie  
> 8\. Can We Fix It? –Bob The Builder  
> 9\. You’re Beautiful – James Blunt  
> 10\. I’d Lie – Taylor Swift  
> 11\. Wannabe – The Spice Girls  
> 12\. Beautiful Disaster – Kelly Clarkson  
> 13\. Peacock – Katy Perry  
> 14\. Your Song – Elton John  
> 15\. All Of You – John Legend  
> 16\. Clarity – Zedd feat. Foxes  
> 17\. I Am The One – Next To Normal Cast  
> 18\. Creep – Radiohead  
> And some extras:  
> 1\. Barbie Girl – Aqua  
> 2\. Achy Breaky Heart – Billy Ray Cyrus  
> 3\. Cheeky Girls  
> 4\. Fast Food Song – Fast Food Rockers  
> 5\. Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It) – Beyoncé  
> 6\. Cotton Eyed Joe - Rednex  
> 7\. 5 6 7 8 – Steps  
> 8\. Anaconda – Nicki Minaj 
> 
> I mean no offense by calling these songs annoying, i actually like a few of them. It's just what i think would wind Enjolras up and what Grantaire would be likely to pick. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading - it did end up a lot longer than I expected so if you've read to the end then congratulations! I may do another part, obviously not as long, so let me know what you think please. Thank you!
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr as beelze-beth


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